You had me at hello - a Zayn Malik fan fiction (not famous)

19 years old Irene has a normal boring life in Italy, until the day she leaves for the U.K. with her best friend Alice. There, she meets Zayn, the most beautiful boy she has ever seen. Love, friendship, jealousy and drama mess up Irene's new life, giving her the chance to find what she has been looking for.

48. The visit

“And is it cold during winter in Copenhagen?” I ask, walking along the path of the front yard of the University.

“Yeah, really cold. But I like it! I like the snow, the warm coats, the hot chocolate, the fireplace in my grandmother’s house…You should come with me in Denmark one time!” Claudia replies.

“I would love to!”

We reach the gate and stop ,standing in front of each other.

“God, today’s lesson was quite boring, and my tummy is grumbling!” she says rubbing her stomach.

I giggle and nod. “I’m hungry too, I’ve got a big plate of pasta waiting for me in my empty and sad house!”

“Haven’t you looked for a roommate?” Claudia asks with a pitiful expression.

“Yes, I scattered some throwaway around the town, but nobody called me yet. It’s not a problem, I’ve saved enough money, it’s just that…I don’t really enjoy spending so much time alone!” I shyly admit, immediately becoming sad because the one that was supposed to keep me company is nowhere to be found. Neither Liam, Louis and the other guys haven’t seen him in the last 5 days, since our night out and Alex’s appearance.

“My bus is arriving, Claudia, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow!” I wave at my friend getting on the big red bus and taking a seat next to the window.

“Have fun with Liam tonight!” I mouth to her while she smiles from the walk-side and blushes, thinking at the date she is going to in a few hours.

I put my headphones on and lose myself in the music. I know it may sound masochist, but I have the habit of listening to sad or love songs when I’m feeling lonely and depressed. Happy songs seem like the singer is making fun of my bad luck.

Katy don’t cry I know

You’re trying your hardest,

and the hardest part is letting

Go of the nights we shared…

Mayday Parade’s song is perfectly suitable. I lock my gaze on the running houses of the dark town out of the window, feeling my heart empty and lifeless, mechanically focusing on the routine of my umpteenth lonely day.

When I’m home, I immediately open the fridge, take some cheese, a slice of bread and jump on the sofa, switching the tv on. Jessica Fletcher is there, ready to fill my moments of laziness and depression.

After about two hours, my doorbell rings. I raise my eyebrows, mentally recalling if Alice or somebody else had planned to visit me tonight.

“Who’s there?” I ask through the microphone.

“Alex. Please let me in!” a trembling voice answers.

I’m left speechless, with the receiver in my hand, struggling between the urge of slamming it and the will to let Alex in and hear what the hell he wants to tell me.

After some seconds, my patience and rational part wins has the best on my impulsiveness.

“Come in.”

I put the receiver back on the wall, and check myself in the mirror. I wonder if he still finds me attractive, if he still feels something when he looks at me.

The door opens and my ex boyfriend is there, wearing a shirt I’ve never seen before, pants I’ve never seen before, shoes I’ve never seen before. But he’s face, his hair, his stubble…he looks the same boy I used to know better than myself.

“Hi…”

I nod as a response, and mumble “C-come in”.

We are now in the living room, standing in front of each other. Alex glimpse at my flat, smiling while spying my new house.

“It’s nice…” he mutters.

“What do you want to tell me, Alex?” I interrupt him, as I’m not in the mood of pleasantries.

He gulps and lowers his head, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I wanted to apologize for what I did…” he lowly claim, not turning his eyes from the floor.

“…Apologize?” I repeat, incredulous.

“After all this time, you run into me by chance, and you still have the guts to come here and simply say “I want to apologize”?” my voice is raising, full of anger and frustration.

“Irene, I…” Alex begins, but in that moment, I hear the door violently opening wide, and fast steps coming in.

Alex and I turn our heads in unison. Zayn is there, gasping and staring at the boy in front of me, his jaw trembling in anger.